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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23499151">la solitude de l'amour propre</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_of_weirdness/pseuds/agent_of_weirdness'>agent_of_weirdness</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, I don't know where this came from but I finished it so, M/M, Sad, angsty smut, caveat lector, having sex with an alternate universe version of yourself and then catching feelings?, here you go, it was good practice for writing sex scenes at least, mostly just porn, possibly also squicky if you don't like the idea of having sex with yourself, setting pre-philosopher's stone, sort-of character study</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:34:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,556</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23499151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_of_weirdness/pseuds/agent_of_weirdness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The mirror shows you your deepest desire, yes; but where does the image come from? After all, there are other worlds than this one.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Severus Snape/Severus Snape, severus snape/alternate universe always female snape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>la solitude de l'amour propre</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I condemn JK Rowling’s recent transphobic, inaccurate, and harmful statements on sex and gender identity. Trans people are who they say they are. I support the rights of transgender people to be called by their chosen pronouns, respected in their expression of gender, and treated fairly and equally in all things. If you agree with Rowling's views, please do not read, comment on, or kudo this fanfic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I tell you, my dear, Narcissus was no egoist… he was merely another of us who, in our unshatterable isolation, recognized, on seeing his reflection, the one beautiful comrade, the only inseparable love… poor Narcissus, possibly the only human who was ever honest on this point.” </p><p>― Truman Capote </p><p> </p><p>“Narcissus does not fall in love with his reflection because it is beautiful but because it is <em> his </em>.” </p><p>― W. H. Auden </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The moment he discovered the ritual last fall, in a disused and almost unreadable old tome hidden under two others at the far end of the Restricted Section, Severus knew he was going to do it, Dumbledore be damned. He <em>had </em>to do it; the mirror was <em>right there</em> in the castle, ridiculously under-guarded because of Dumbledore’s strange notion that keeping an object that held such a fascination under too much security only increased its power over the will. He’d had to wait until the summer, when Dumbledore finally,  <em> finally </em> left the castle for his annual vacation at the end of July, only two days before the new moon. As soon as he was gone Severus went into a frenzy of action, trying to get everything ready in time. If he missed the new moon, he’d have to wait again for another year. </p><p>But he hasn’t missed it. Everything is in place at last. It’s going to work, he’s certain. </p><p>He stands before the Mirror of Erised, waiting for the last light of sunset to fade, contemplating what a stupid and inaccurate name it is. The writing around the mirror always appears in the native language of whoever stands in front of it, and always backwards. The mirror’s real name, of course, has been long forgotten, along with its true purpose.  </p><p>Most of the texts Severus has read since he came across the ritual focus on its most obvious trait, but Severus has come to believe that is only a side-effect of its true power. The mirror shows you your deepest desire, yes; but where does the image come from? His research has made him certain that it does not come merely from within the viewer. After all, there are other worlds than this one.  </p><p>Lily smiles at him from the other side of the glass, warmly but also a little sadly.  </p><p>“Don’t worry,” he murmurs to her, though she certainly can’t hear him, and why would she be worried in any case? “It won’t be long now.” </p><p>Is there a Severus Snape on her side, one who betrayed her just as terribly as he did? Will she scream at him, spit on him, curse his name, when he pulls her through? He doesn’t dare hope that she might embrace him as a friend. Just to see her, smell her, hear her voice—that would be enough. Just to stand near her once more, even for a moment. He’ll send her back when the new moon returns; he can’t keep her, much as he wants to. Dumbledore would not allow it, of course, but more importantly, Lily would not allow it either. He knows she’s not his to keep. </p><p>Dusk has fallen at last. Severus quickly finishes the runic circle he’s drawn on the stone floor around the mirror. He lights the candles and the incense and readies the giant stone basin full of his own blood that he saved up, with the help of several blood-replenishing potions and a few carefully-cast preserving charms. The ritual required enough blood to suggest a human sacrifice, but after studying it carefully he determined to his relief that no killing was actually necessary, only a sufficient quantity of blood.  </p><p>Basin in place, Severus kneels before the mirror and begins the chant he memorized. He’s not sure how many iterations are required, the writing was unclear, but he’s decided to start with a standard three and continue to seven if nothing happens. </p><p>His heart is pounding in his chest loud enough to drown out the sound of his own voice in his ears as he finishes the third iteration. The mirror suddenly flashes white; he sucks in a breath as Lily’s image disappears and the glass turns dark, rippling like water. </p><p>Now is the time. He steels himself with another deep breath and plunges both arms into the glass. They slide through with no resistance, though he bites back a yell at the painfully icy chill that bites his flesh. He grits his teeth and gropes with both hands, but he can feel nothing. His heart grips with that same icy pain. To be so close, and still not find her, is nearly a worse agony than losing her the first time. </p><p>But then suddenly his hands find another pair of hands, smaller and more delicate than his own. He seizes them without hesitation and pulls as hard as he can. </p><p>He scrabbles backwards, narrowly missing the now-empty basin, and hauls the person he’s grabbed through to his side of the glass with all his might. They fall together to the ground, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. </p><p>Only after she is all the way through, lying half atop him on the ground and gasping, does he dare to open his eyes. </p><p>The first thing he sees is the mirror, which has gone back to showing Lily’s image. He looks down at the person he’s holding by the wrists. </p><p>It’s not Lily. </p><p>The person—woman, he thinks, if the cut of her robes are any indication—yanks her wrists out of his grasp and scrambles to her feet. He stares up at her with a strange feeling of recognition. That <em>face </em>— </p><p>“Who <em>are </em>you?” he says, almost wonderingly. </p><p>The woman draws herself up to her full height, glaring down her nose at him. “<em> I </em>  am  Severa Snape, Hogwarts Potions Mistress and Head of Slytherin House. Who are <em>you </em>?” </p><p>“Severus Snape. <em> Also </em>Hogwarts Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House.” </p><p>“No,” the woman breathes. Her black eyes dart around the chamber, taking in the mirror and the runic circle, dismay and disappointment clear on her thin, sallow face. </p><p>Severus gets up and circles the woman in disbelief. Her hair is longer, but she's nearly as slim-hipped and flat-chested as he himself is, and she's less than half an inch shorter, if that. Forget mere siblings—they could be twins. He glances at her face just for a moment, wary of making eye contact if their skills are as similar as their bodies. Her nose is smaller, but still unmistakably Tobias Snape's nose. Her jaw is softer, her brows not as heavy. Her lips are just as thin.  </p><p>"Merlin, I make an ugly woman," he mutters. </p><p>The woman clenches her hands into fists at her side, face suffusing with a familiar ugly flush.  </p><p>"You’re no prize yourself, you beak-nosed prick-swinging troglodyte," she snaps back, sneering. </p><p>Severus snorts. “Believe me, I’m well aware.”  </p><p>The woman pinches the base of her nose, exactly the way he himself does when a headache is coming on. “Fuck,” she mutters. She suddenly kicks the stone basin viciously. “Fuck!” </p><p>Severus winces; she’ll be lucky if she hasn’t broken a toe. He watches her limp over to the window and sit on the sill with a heavy sigh. </p><p>"How old are you?" she asks after a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose again.  </p><p>"Twenty-four. You?” </p><p>"The same.” </p><p>“And what were you doing when I pulled you through?" </p><p>She is staring at the mirror, but he notices her glance at him from the corner of her eye. </p><p>"The same thing you were doing, it seems," she says impassively. "Which is perhaps why we found one another instead of what we were actually seeking." </p><p>"Who were you looking for?" Severus asks, in a rare moment of impulsivity. </p><p>She gives him a withering look. Severus glances at the mirror. Lily has returned, with the same sad but knowing smile as always. He looks away. </p><p>His counterpart sighs again and stands. "We will have to wait for the new moon to come again before I can attempt to return where I belong. I’m certain to be missed within a day in my universe, which means it's too late for me to prevent my Dumbledore finding out about my error. But if you can keep me hidden, there's no need for your Dumbledore to find out." </p><p>“Certainly. I was already prepared to do the same for—” he cuts himself off, clenching his jaw. </p><p>“Yes. Well. Let’s clean this up and get the fuck out of here. I’m sick of that bloody mirror.” </p><p>Severus wholeheartedly agrees. </p><p> </p><p>___________________ </p><p> </p><p>His counterpart pokes around his quarters with interest as he raises his wards to keep out the castle elves and alert him to anyone’s approach.  </p><p>“We have the same books,” she remarks, running a finger along the spines on his shelf.  </p><p>“What about the same taste in alcohol?” he asks. </p><p>“You mean whatever’s on offer? Certainly,” she says dryly, and he snorts. He gets out a bottle of wine, after a moment’s thought, he gets out a second and offers it to her.  </p><p>“Cheers,” she says with a smirk, magicking the cork open and taking an impressively large swig. He follows suit, not to be outdone. </p><p>“What a fucking mess,” she says, taking another swig and dropping gracelessly onto his sofa. She tilts her head back against the back of the sofa and closes her eyes. </p><p>It’s strange. If you had asked him before this, he would have said that having to spend any amount of time with another version of himself would be a nightmare. But he doesn’t feel threatened or irritated by this alternate version of himself, as he might have expected. Perhaps it’s because she’s female, and thus there's no testosterone-fueled urge to establish who’s the dominant version. And she’s so clearly despondent over her situation. Instead of feeling despondent himself, he has an urge to cheer her up. </p><p>“Don’t worry. We’ll get you back. Your Dumbledore may be angry, but he has a soft spot for—for us. He won’t really punish you.” </p><p>She smirks and takes another swig of wine. “Maybe so. But it will still be tedious, hearing him go on about how disappointed he is.” </p><p>“Did he—” Severus stops. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“Did he keep you out of Azkaban as well?” he asks quietly, fiddling with the neck of his wine bottle. </p><p>“Yes,” she says, rubbing the bridge of her nose again. “He did.” </p><p>“I wonder...what points of divergence are there between your life and mine?” </p><p>“There can’t be very many. Else we wouldn’t have both been in the exact same place at the exact same moment doing the exact same ritual.” </p><p>He raises his bottle, gesturing towards her. “Never thought I’d meet anyone as unlucky as I am.” </p><p>“I’d say I’m slightly unluckier. Considering that I’m here. At least you’re getting away with it.” </p><p>“Hmm. A novel experience, not being the most unlucky bastard in the room.”  </p><p>She raises her own bottle and tips it slightly toward him, her mouth twisting in an ironic smile. “Enjoy it. It’ll never happen again.” </p><p>He sits down on the other end of the couch and drinks deeply. </p><p>She watches him over the mouth of her own bottle, black eyes glittering. “Let’s play a game,” she says suddenly. “Drink every time I’ve done something you haven’t, and vice versa. If neither of us have, we both drink.” </p><p>“Fine, I suppose. Shall I start? Have you ever been outside the UK?” </p><p>“Went to Paris once. Just for a weekend. It rained the whole time.” </p><p>Severus takes a drink. “It never seemed worth the bother.” </p><p>“Hmm. Have you ever...” she taps the lip of her bottle against her chin thoughtfully. “Smoked pot?” </p><p>“Once. Made me nauseated.” </p><p>She takes a drink. “I was offered something that was very clearly oregano wrapped in a tobacco leaf. I passed.” </p><p>“Ever gotten laid?” he asks. </p><p>She shakes her head ruefully. Severus slides closer to her and leans over to clink his bottle against hers. “Bottoms up,” she says with a smirk, tipping her bottle back to finish it off. </p><p>“I would have thought a woman would have an easier time making that happen,” he says, wiping his mouth after finishing his own bottle. </p><p>“Why, because men will fuck anything that holds still long enough? Perhaps, but <em> I  </em>have standards.” She arches an eyebrow at him haughtily when he laughs, which just makes him laugh harder.  </p><p>“Still,” she sighs, slumping back against the couch. “I wish I’d found some way to get it over with before everything went to shit. Now, barring a Defense professor who both finds me attractive and isn’t utterly repulsive themselves, I’ll probably die a virgin, if Dumbledore’s right about the Dark Lord returning one day. And he’s always right, isn’t he?” </p><p>Her leg is touching his, and the heat of it is—Merlin, he’s getting hard just from a woman’s <em>leg </em> touching his. </p><p>"We could fix that, you and I," he hears himself say, his voice just a little rougher than normal. Two reckless acts in one day is no doubt pushing his nonexistent luck too far, but he's still nonetheless hopeful that a third reckless act may be hovering on the horizon.  </p><p>She stares at him. "You <em>are </em>a pig," she finally says, mouth twisting in disgust. "That's the most wanton and depraved suggestion I've ever heard." But she doesn’t pull her leg away from his. </p><p>Severus shrugs, trying to seem casual, and not suddenly, desperately randy. "Perhaps. But it nonetheless has a certain…attraction, as an idea. If you don't feel the same way, however, I won't press the issue. I only thought I might as well point out this rare opportunity we have been presented with, as we are unlikely to ever have another." </p><p>She glares at him, but he can see the gleam in her eye that suggests she's not as opposed as she pretends. "I'd have to be mad. Mad, and <em>sick </em>, to let you...It's practically incest." </p><p>Now there's a detail that Severus had not considered. He frowns. "I don't have any potion on hand—why would I—but we don't need to perform that <em>particular </em> act. There are plenty of things we could do with no risk of pregnancy, if that's what you're concerned about." </p><p>She gapes at him for half a second before recovering her expression of disgust. "I am not concerned about you <em>impregnating </em> me. I closed off that possibility permanently before I even left Hogwarts. But even without the risk of offspring from such an unnatural union, it's still vile and twisted. If anyone ever found out—" </p><p>"Oh, but they won't,” he murmurs. Either the wine he’s drunk or the throb in his stiffening prick makes him bold enough to lay a hand gently on her thigh as he leans in closer. “We know how to keep secrets, you and I. And vile and twisted as it may be, you want to do it anyway. Don't you." </p><p>She gets to her feet, slightly unsteadily, and looks down her formidable nose at him. </p><p>"Perhaps I am not as depraved with desperation as you," she says haughtily, but she doesn't quite meet his eye. </p><p>Severus gets up slowly. “Are you sure about that?” he asks, very softly. Her face flushes a dull, blotchy red and she turns her face away, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. </p><p>He steps closer. She steps back, but she doesn't reach for her wand or even try to step around him, so he takes another step. And another. </p><p>He backs her up slowly, still not touching her, until her back is against the stone wall and her arms drop to her sides. Only then does he make contact, reaching out to slowly drag one finger down the front of her robes, right between her breasts. She shudders slightly, but doesn't protest. He moves closer, wrapping his fingers around her wrists, angling his face against hers to press their lips together. She makes a soft noise from the back of her throat, and he takes it as invitation to slip his tongue inside her mouth.  </p><p>Her arms twine around his neck as the kiss becomes deeper, hotter, wetter. He moans into her mouth as he slots his thigh between her legs, letting her grind herself against his thigh as he rubs his cock against her bony hip. He’s so desperately turned on that he could come just from this, and then suddenly <em>she </em>comes, moaning and shivering in his arms, and he pushes hard one last time against her and spends himself in his pants with a hoarse cry.  </p><p>He leans against the wall and she leans against him, both trembling and panting for breath. He’s surprised to find that his orgasm hasn’t diminished his randiness at all—normally, when he does this on his own, he’s consumed by a twin feeling of lassitude and faint disgust after he comes, but right now, he can already feel his prick trying to stir again. </p><p>Severa kisses him again, hard. "Bed," she says hoarsely against his lips, and he drags her to his bedchamber by the hand, not bothering to hide his own eagerness. He slams the door behind them and puts up the strongest locking and sound-canceling charms he knows. When he turns back to her, she has stripped her robes off over her head and is standing there, wearing a pair of plain, practical black leather boots just like the type he himself wears, thin white cotton panties through which he can see the shadow of her dark pubic hair, and absolutely nothing else. Her breasts are very small, with nipples larger and rosier than his own.  </p><p>She looks back at him defiantly and he realizes she’s waiting for him to say something cutting. Instead he yanks his own robes up over his head and tosses them aside. His prick juts out within his grey pants, wet with his come. Her eyes immediately go to it and she steps closer, yanking his pants down roughly and freeing his prick. She sinks gracefully to her knees and starts lapping it clean, and it’s all he can do to keep his knees from buckling as her tongue swipes up and down and around his cock. She pulls back the foreskin and sucks the head and he moans, clutching at her shoulder, legs shaking. </p><p>“Stop,” he gasps, pushing at her shoulder. “I don’t want to come yet.” </p><p>“Oh? What do you want?” she asks, looking up at him with her hand wrapped loosely around his cock, her black eyes glittering. </p><p>“I want to fuck you. I want to come inside you.” </p><p>She shivers and nod, licking her lips. He yanks her to her feet and nearly shoves her onto the bed. She scrabbles backwards with her hands to get herself fully onto the mattress as he claws off her panties, not even bothering with her boots or his own, and climbs over her, prick bobbling before him. The air is blissfully cool on his hot, wet flesh.  </p><p>He slides a hand between her legs, wetting his fingers in her folds and wiping the moisture on his prick. He grabs the base and rubs the head of his prick against her, getting it wetter. She spreads her legs wider for him and claws at his shoulders. </p><p>“Put it in, put it in,” she says breathlessly, and he does. </p><p>She lets out a brief hiss of pain as he slides fully into her. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes into her neck. “So <em>tight </em>.” </p><p>“Maybe a little too tight,” she says, wincing a little. </p><p>“Painful?” he asks, drawing back slightly. She holds him tighter against her, shaking her head. </p><p>“A little, but don’t stop. Just go slowly.” </p><p>She slides a hand down between them and rubs at herself as he tries to move as slowly as he can, despite the urge to pound himself into her hard and fast that is swelling inside him. Every brush of her fingers against the base of his cock is maddening. </p><p>Suddenly her hips move with his, and she moans. </p><p>“Good, good, do it harder now,” she says, and he does, letting his hips snap hard against hers as she rocks up to meet him. Someone is making a harsh <em>ah </em><em>ah </em> <em>ah </em>sound in time with his thrusts, and he realizes with surprise that it’s him, grunting like an animal. She writhes under him, moaning and tossing her head back and forth on the pillow. “Yes, fuck!” she cries, digging her fingers into his hips as he speeds up, white-hot pleasure radiating up his spine and down to his toes with each slide of his prick into and out of her wet, grasping heat.  </p><p>Just when he thinks he can’t hold back his orgasm any longer, she seizes up with a loud cry, tightening deliciously around him. He thrusts forward one last time and comes hard enough to see bright spots of light behind his tightly-closed eyelids. </p><p>“Ugh,” she says some time later, nudging his shins with her feet, as he lies boneless next to her with an arm thrown around her waist. “Clean up this wet spot of yours, why don’t you? It’s very unpleasant to lie in.” </p><p>“<em>My </em>wet spot? I do believe you contributed your fair share,” he says, but gropes for his wand and does as she asks. </p><p>She smiles at him, and because her teeth are just as yellow and crooked as his own, it’s acceptable to smile back.  </p><p> </p><p>___________________ </p><p> </p><p>Twenty-eight days until the next new moon, and they, by tacit, mutual agreement, spend most of it fucking, in every possible position and configuration they can think of. Severus takes her from behind, bounces her on his cock in his lap while he sits in his armchair, bends her over his dining table and then spreads her out on top of it, sprawls on the rug with her atop him, riding his cock in front of the fire, takes her up against his bookshelf with her legs wrapped tight around his hips, driving into her hard enough to topple books left and right off the shelf. He even persuades her to let him fuck her up the arse, and they are both surprised by how much she enjoys it, prostate or no prostate.  </p><p>Her one condition is that she gets to do it to him in turn, and he has no trouble keeping his word, letting her fuck him vigorously with a hastily-transfigured strap-on. It’s all perfect, even (especially) the strap-on. They are in perfect sync, liking the same acts, the same touches, the same hard, rough pace. During the short time they spend not fucking, they eat the food that Severus smuggled in from Hogsmeade so the elves wouldn’t know he’s hiding another person in his quarters, or they sleep curled together like cats, or talk about magical theory, or get drunk and talk about everything and nothing in particular. Talking to her is like talking to himself, except better, because despite having almost the exact same experience and knowledge, she still manages to surprise him, and it's a fun challenge to surprise her in turn. Whatever they do, it inevitably morphs into more fucking.  </p><p>Severus has never been so blissfully content in his whole life. </p><p>It’s a struggle not to spend all day in his quarters, not even surfacing for meals. Dumbledore is, thankfully, still in Greece for another few days, but Minerva is just as observant in her own way. He spends just long enough in the company of the rest of the staff spending the summer at Hogwarts to keep her from getting suspicious, then returns to Severa as quickly as he can, stripping his clothes off as soon as he seals the doors behind him. She’s usually already ready for him, though there was one memorable time he found her twisted in his sheets, fast asleep, and slowly licked and sucked her awake, teasing her until she begged for his prick. </p><p>“You should wear deodorant,” he says one day in mid-August, as they lie lazily together after a long, leisurely session of sixty-nine, kissing and nibbling at her neck the way they both like.  </p><p>She pulls away, wrinkling her nose at him. “<em> You </em> should wear deodorant. You smell more than I do, you filthy man.” </p><p>“I suppose,” he says nonchalantly as he tugs her back and puts his mouth on her again, this time over her small breasts. She gasps in a way he finds very gratifying and digs her nails into his back. </p><p>Later, he brings her some deodorant he made himself with some shea butter (and didn’t he get an odd look from the apothecary in Hogsmeade when he laid a half pound of <em> that </em> on the counter), coconut oil, a little baking soda, and a dash of rosemary oil, and infused with a charm he’d picked up from a book on hygiene for teenage wizards. She pretends to be insulted, but he can tell by the way she smiles just slightly as she smells the pot of deodorant that she’s actually delighted. </p><p>He keeps some for himself too, of course, and makes a point of wearing it. He also starts washing his hair in the mornings. Hagrid and Minerva both give him odd looks at breakfast the first morning; Dumbledore, on the other hand, seems more amused by the way he pretends not to notice their stares. </p><p> </p><p>___________________ </p><p> </p><p>Only ten more days until the new moon, and their fucking hasn’t decreased in frequency but it has gradually changed into something less frenzied and more passionately tender, something more like love-making than the furious and greedy pursuit of orgasms that originally drove them. They still like it hard and fast right before they come, but now they linger longer over one another before that part, stroking and caressing and teasing one another to draw it out, make it last.  </p><p>One morning Severus misses breakfast entirely because Severa spends almost a full hour slowly, leisurely sucking his cock, and when her jaw gets too tired to continue, she lets him hold her head and gently, gently thrust into the slick heat of her mouth until he comes down her throat. It’s a filthy act, but the way she looks up at him during makes his heart squeeze, and there’s something so achingly sweet about the whole thing that he can’t stop thinking about it, all day long. </p><p>“I want to try something,” she says when he returns that evening. </p><p>“I thought we’d tried <em>everything </em> ,” he says dryly, watching her face carefully and curiously as he removes his boots. She isn’t hesitant exactly, but to preface it this way after all the  many filthy  things they have indeed already tried together makes him think this is going to be a very special, very <em>interesting </em> request. </p><p>“I want to get out of here, get some fresh air, feel the sun a little. Much as I enjoy playing your willing sex toy, I’m going stir-crazy.” </p><p>“And how do you propose to accomplish this without being seen?” </p><p>“Don’t you keep Polyjuice in your potion stores?” </p><p>“Ah, I see. You want to disguise yourself as me.” He strokes his upper lip thoughtfully. “It’s risky.” </p><p>“Not that risky. You and I are so alike, I doubt anyone will notice anything amiss. And I also thought it could be fun for you, as well,” she says suggestively, stepping closer to him to caress his backside. </p><p>Severus blinks. That<em> is </em>interesting. “I suppose you’re right. Shall we try it now? You need some practice walking like a man before you go out in public.” </p><p>“And you need a hard cock up your arse. Don’t you?” she purrs, stroking his already-stiff prick through his robes. </p><p>It’s odd looking at her and seeing himself exactly, without the little feminine details he’s grown used to in her face and body. But the feeling of a hot, flesh and blood cock inside him is sublime, far better than the strap-on. He comes without even needing a hand on his prick as she finds his prostate and unerringly drives her identical prick against it, again and again. </p><p>“Merlin, you’re so hot and tight,” she moans as she picks up the pace of her thrusts, pulling his hips into hers. “No wonder men love doing this.”  </p><p>He even enjoys the filthy feeling of come dripping out of him after she spends herself inside him with a hoarse shout and flops next to him on their bed, sated. </p><p>Though she is right; the wet spot<em> is </em>disgusting to lie in. </p><p> </p><p>___________________ </p><p> </p><p>"Why did you decide to sterilize yourself?" he asks that night, after she’s returned from her excursion and let the potion wear off—although not before she had coaxed him into the shower with her, bending him over double and licking his freshly washed arsehole with gratifying enthusiasm until he was loose and open enough for her to fuck him thoroughly one more time.  </p><p>She raises an eyebrow at him incredulously as she towels her hair dry. "Do<em> you </em>want children?" </p><p>"Absolutely not." </p><p>"Well, there you are." </p><p>"Yes, but there are less permanent solutions." </p><p>"Less permanent and also less foolproof. I didn't want to take any chances. Why are you asking about this?" </p><p>"I was just curious. It's never occurred to me to sterilize myself." It is a rare difference between them, and for some reason he is compelled to poke at it, like the gap of a newly missing tooth. </p><p>She smirked at him. "The stakes are lower for you. If you made a mistake and ejaculated carelessly into some woman, you would be able to skirt the consequences entirely if you so chose. I, on the other hand, needed to make sure that I would never be in such a position." </p><p><em> Like our mother</em>, she does not say, but he hears it regardless. </p><p>Severa finishes drying her hair and goes to hang up the towel. Severus gets into bed to wait for her. It’s so domestic he can’t help but laugh at himself a little. He imagines being married would be something like this. If it was the right person, anyway. He's never been at ease with someone like this before, not even with Lily.  </p><p>Funnily enough, Lily is the one topic they haven’t ever discussed. </p><p>When she lies down next to him and curls up against his shoulder, Severus finally brings it up. </p><p>“What was it like between you and Lily?” </p><p>Severa strokes a hand down his chest, not trying to get anything started, just petting him, like she finds it soothing. </p><p>“Oh, you know,” she says softly after a moment. “Wonderful. Terrible. Over too soon.”  </p><p>"Did you..." </p><p>"Desire her?" She finishes, looking up from his shoulder with a smirk at his sudden diffidence. "Of course I did. How could I not? But I never gave any sign. And she never realized. Did she ever realize about you?" </p><p>"What, that I wanted her, or that I swing both ways?" </p><p>"Both. Either." </p><p>"I don't know. Maybe. We never spoke about those kinds of things. And by the time my full range of attractions started to become obvious to me, we were already beginning to drift apart." </p><p>“How did it happen?” </p><p>“I called her...” </p><p>“Yes,” she says, when he can’t finish the sentence. “And she never forgave us.” </p><p>“It was really just the final straw, I think. She was already looking for a way to distance herself, wasn’t she?” </p><p>“She was completely right, is what she was,” Severa says bitterly, suddenly sitting up and shoving him away. She curls her arms around her knees, hugging them to her chest. “We abandoned her first. Using that word was the least of the ways we betrayed her.” </p><p>“Yes. That’s true.” Severus doesn’t reach for her, but after a moment Severa returns anyway, curling up against him even closer than before. </p><p>“What I wouldn’t give to do it over. Even if it all turned out the same way, and she still ended up—but I could have known her longer. Until the end. All that time we wasted...” </p><p>There’s nothing to say, so he just holds her tightly, until they both drift off to sleep. </p><p> </p><p>___________________ </p><p> </p><p>Sometime before dawn, on the eve of the new moon, Severus wakes alone in his bed for the first time since Severa arrived. He hears a noise coming from the bathroom. After a moment of straining to listen he realizes with a jolt that she’s in there crying. </p><p>He curls himself tight around her pillow and tries not to listen. It smells like her. Suddenly he aches, terribly, like those hellish days after Lily was murdered, when he was all raw nerves, stripped bloody by his grief.  </p><p>How many pieces can they stand to have cut out of them like this, until there’s nothing left? </p><p>He drifts back to sleep before she emerges. When he wakes, she pretends she was never gone, and although her eyes are still red, he lets her. She curls up close to him, rubbing her arse against his morning hard-on. </p><p>“Is that for me?” </p><p>“Who else could it be for?” He means it as a tease, but it comes out too sincere. She doesn’t say anything, just takes his hand and presses it against her breast. He toys with her nipples as he grinds himself against the cleft of her arse, until she’s moaning and wet between her thighs. He lifts her leg up and enters her in one smooth thrust. On their sides like this, he can’t do the punishing, jackhammer thrusts they usually do, but that’s fine. He wants it to last. He rocks into her slowly from behind, pressing kisses against her neck and shoulder with each thrust.  </p><p>Finally, she gets impatient. “Come on, I want you to really fuck me,” she says, wriggling out of his arms and getting on her hands and knees on the bed. She moans as he pushes back into her, but he keeps his pace slow, thrusting in hard and then drawing out a little at a time, until only the tip of his cock is inside her, then driving in hard again, over and over, sweat running down his face as he fights to keep from speeding up to chase his orgasm. He already knows this is the last time.  </p><p>He stops suddenly and pulls her back against his chest, holding her in place with one hand on her stomach while he pinches her nipples savagely with the other and grinds his hips against her arse. She screams and throws her head back, spasming around him, but he doesn’t let up until she comes again, arching against his chest in ecstasy.  </p><p>He pushes her facedown onto the bed and thrusts once, twice more into her limp, sated body before he comes, driving his hips forward as hard as he can and holding them there as he pulses into her. He doesn’t pull out, instead waiting until his prick softens enough to fall out of her naturally. She lets him lie on top of her without protest.  </p><p>He slides down her body and presses his mouth to her slit, where his seed is leaking out of her, and works her busily with his tongue, lapping up his taste and hers until she comes a third time with a soft, hazy sigh. </p><p>“You should go to breakfast,” she says after a while. He shakes his head against her thigh. As soon as he leaves this bed, it will be the end. And of course, the end is inevitable. But not yet. Not yet. All he wants is just to lie with her, just a little longer. </p><p>Just a little longer.</p><p> </p><p>___________________ </p><p> </p><p>Thankfully they don’t need any blood for the return ritual, only water collected from the reflection of the full moon. Severus already had it prepared. Other than redrawing the ritual circle, there’s nothing left to do but wait.  </p><p>An hour before sunset, they walk together up to the disused tower room where the mirror waits. They walk openly, not even trying to be stealthy, but the castle is quiet and they meet no one on their way regardless.  </p><p>They draw the circle together, Severus starting on one side of the mirror and Severa on the other. They both scrupulously avoid looking into its surface. When they meet in the middle, Severus helps her to her feet and doesn’t let go of her hands until she pulls them free. </p><p>“The chant,” she says, turning away to look out the window, where the last light of sunset is rapidly fading. </p><p>When he is silent, she begins it without him, kneeling before the mirror and clasping her hands in front of her chest, eyes closed. He stands there, frozen, until a white flash finally catches his eye. </p><p>Severa rises to her feet. She turns to the mirror and squares her shoulders, fists clenched at her sides, one leg tensing as she prepares to step forward. </p><p>“I don’t want you to go,” he blurts out. Her shoulders tense, and he suppresses a flinch. </p><p>“I made a promise,” she says, finally looking at him. Despite the wetness brimming in her eyes, her voice is steel. </p><p>Severus looks down, ashamed. He should have held his tongue; he’d known better. They were the same in this way, as well. </p><p>She comes back to his side. Her long, pale fingers touch his jaw, tilting his head up. She kisses him, sweetly and gently and chastely. It is utterly unlike any of the other kisses they have shared, and the tenderness of it pierces him straight through. </p><p>Then she takes a deep breath and turns and strides through the mirror. The glass ripples once in her wake and then falls still.    </p><p>Severus stands where he is for a long time, watching the stars begin to come out one by one in the dusky slice of sky visible through the window. Before he goes, he puts the dust cover back over the mirror, careful not to look at its surface. He is no longer at all sure what he will see there, and he doesn’t want to find out. </p><p> </p><p>___________________ </p><p> </p><p>He used to enjoy the silence of his quarters. Now, as he lies sleepless in his bed that now feels too large, too empty, it feels like the silence is mocking him. He tries to tell himself that there is nothing to miss, that he’s spent the last month essentially masturbating very creatively. That is all. There is no reason for him to feel lonely now. </p><p>He stares at the ceiling and reflects on why it is that, as good as he is at lying to others, he has never had much success at lying to himself. </p><p> </p><p>___________________ </p><p> </p><p>On the other side of the mirror, Dumbledore is already waiting. He helps her up from the floor where she’d fallen to her knees, gasping.  She meets his eyes and opens her mouth, but no explanation or defense is forthcoming. Instead, she surprises herself by bursting into tears. </p><p>Even more surprisingly, Dumbledore says nothing at all. He just puts his arms around her and holds her as she sobs. </p><p>“Come,” he finally says, once she’s subsided to only the occa<span class="TextRun SCXW87132618 BCX0"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW87132618 BCX0">sional </span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW87132618 BCX0"><span class="SpellingError SCXW87132618 BCX0">hiccuping</span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW87132618 BCX0"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW87132618 BCX0"> gasp. “I’ll make you some tea.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p> </p>
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